Jam
by Jelsemium
Summary: Hunter's in a jam, and this time, it's Big Guy who needs to be rescued.
1. Jam

Jam, Pt. 1 of 3

By Jill Weber

For Maureen, Mere, Mara, Mary Christmas, Pixie, Enigma13, Zera, Sparks, MadArtiste, Peanut, Potato, Verve, Dr. Susan Calvin, Seth, ActionFigure, LtDwayneHunter, JP, Jo, Joshua, Vathara, Michele, Grace, Wayne and, most of all, my sister, Karen

Characters owned by Darkhorse and Sony. They are used without permission, but with no intent of making a profit. Think of it as free advertising.

Two pairs of machine guns chattered ineffectively. The follow up missiles were no more successful. The glistening blob absorbed all the missiles and explosions with no outward sign of distress. "This is like shooting Jell-O," muttered the 15' robot formally designated the BGY-11 and familiarly known as "The Big Guy."

The Big Guy stepped back a few paces to survey the situation, then jerked to a halt. Rather, he was jerked to a halt when a tendril of slime wrapped itself around one of his legs. "Really *_aggressive*_ Jell-O," he muttered. 

Activating his forehead laser, Big Guy cut his leg free and retreated. His relief was short lived, however. Another tendril shot out from the alley wall and became entangled in the machine guns that protruded from under Big Guy's right for arm. "For the luvva Mike," grumbled the big robot. 

From inside Big Guy's cockpit, Lt. Dwayne Hunter studied the situation. His attempts to pull free were obviously futile. Resistance is futile, you will be assimilated, he thought. The angle was wrong for his forehead laser, and none of his other weapons had made any kind of impression. That left him only one option.

"Uh, Son? A little help here?" Hunter spoke into the pickup that would translate his voice into Big Guy's stentorian tones. 

"Coming, Big Guy!" Rusty's enthusiastic reply arrived scant minutes before the boy robot. 

Hunter shook his head and wondered at the twists his life had taken lately. He had resented being forced to take Rusty on as a partner. But somewhere along the way his "That toy? You've *got* to be kidding!" had turned into "Son, a little help here?"

"Big Guy, are you all right?" Rusty's worried tones surprised a smile out of Hunter. 

It was hard not to like the boy robot and Hunter had given up trying months ago.

"Yes, Sport, got a little jammed in here," Big Guy indicated his entangled machine guns with his free hand.

"Ooo, ick," Rusty said. The redheaded robot darted around Big Guy like a hummingbird, being careful not to get ensnared himself. "If I try blasting you free, I'll probably smoke your machine guns."

Big Guy sighed. "I have a feeling that they're toast, anyway," he said. "Blast away, Son."

Big Guy's tones were matter-of-fact, but inwardly, Hunter was wincing. Considering some of Rusty's previous mishaps with his nucleo-protonic powers, it was all too easy to imagine the boy robot blasting a hole through Big Guy's torso. (And Hunter.)

Rusty frowned as he studied the angles. Obviously, he was thinking along the same lines as Hunter. (Without the addendum of possibly vaporizing Hunter, of course. As far as the boy robot knew, "Lt. Dwayne" was safely out of harm's way.)

"Okay," Rusty said. "You lean away from the slime thing here and I'll blast."

"Right," Big Guy replied. He moved as far from the building he was glued to as he could and leaned away.

"Okay," Rusty said again. He steadied his right hand with his left and fired his right forefinger like a heavy caliber revolver.

The blazing green nucleo-protonic blast vaporized the slime that was holding Big Guy's arm. It also vaporized the machine gun battery in that arm. Plus it sent Big Guy crashing to the ground in an undignified sprawl.

The recoil sent Rusty hurtling into the wall on the opposite side of the alley. Fortunately, the wall was free of gunk. However, the elderly building now had a decided list to it.

"Oops," Rusty said sheepishly.

"Good job, Sport," Big Guy assured him hastily as he got up. The two robots beat a retreat down the alley with the glistening glob oozing after them.

Snarling, Hunter opened fire with his remaining guns, more in the way of making a rude gesture than an actual attempt to cause damage.

"My suit's compromised," Hunter said into the audio pickup to his Pit Crew. "I've lost the right arm guns and the arm casing." He reached out and flipped off several switches. No sense in sending power to guns which were no longer there. "The floor is officially open for suggestions." 

The leftmost of three video monitors above his main view screen came to life. "Maybe what you need is some peanut butter, Lieutenant," this was in Mack's raspy tones. The lean, elderly mechanic looked innocently at his commanding officer. "Add a few slices of bread, and you'll be a peanut butter and jelly hero sandwich."

Dwayne rolled his eyes and made a point of sighing loudly. "Okay, the floor is now open for *useful* suggestions," he amended.

The center monitor flickered to life to show his second in command. "Maybe acid?" Garth suggested. The black man ran a hand over his sweaty bald pate.

"Acid?" rumbled Big Guy, looking around. The question was not directed specifically at Rusty, but the boy robot looked around also.

Both hit on the same idea at the same time. "The cars," boomed Big Guy.

"Hey, Big Guy, don't car batteries have acid in them?" piped up Rusty.

The two 'bots spread out and began to harvest batteries from abandoned cars. 

"What shall we empty the acid into, Big Guy?" Rusty asked, keeping a wary eye on the approaching gunk. "A trash can?"

"Hm, too deep, I think," Big Guy muttered. "Too hard to pour it out again. Try a lid, instead."

They emptied the batteries into a galvanized lid. 

"I'll see if I can get your guns back," Rusty volunteered. He pointed to where the gunk was carrying the twin machine guns along the alley.

Big Guy nodded assent. "Be careful, Son," he admonished. Under his breath, Hunter added. "Slate'll kill me if anything happens to you."

"I wouldn't worry too much, Dwayne," Jo's cheerful voice broke in from the background; then the blonde, freckled woman looked over Mack's shoulder. "I think she *LIKES* you." She put considerable adolescent glee into the word 'likes.'

Dwayne gave her an acidic look. "Does the phrase 'drop and give me twenty' hold any meaning for you?" he asked.

"Can't do pushups right now, *sir*," Jo said briskly, but entirely unrepentantly. She disappeared from view, presumably to go back to her tracking panels. "It'll have to wait until my hands are free."

"Don't get too sassy, or I'll put you in charge of making coffee!" Dwayne warned, knowing that threat would carry more weight with the rest his crew. Especially considering how badly Jo's last batch of coffee had come out.

Before any of the Pit Crew could respond, Hunter said: "Enough chatter, keep your minds on business." He hesitated and added. "And keep your eyes on Rusty. See if Garth's idea works."

Rusty was carefully pouring the collected battery acid over the blob that contained the machine guns. Then he flew back to Big Guy, shaking his head. "Nothing," he said glumly. "It didn't even fizzle."

"Well, THAT idea fizzled," muttered Garth. "Anybody else have an idea?" He looked at Mack and amended. "A *useful* idea?"

"Well, in the movie 'The Blob,' the Blob was stopped by extreme cold," Jo suggested.

The three men pondered that for a few moments. "I guess we could try dry ice," Mack said. "Unless Slate can get hold of something colder?"

"Good idea," Hunter said. "Is Slate online?"

"Just a second," Garth turned away from the screen and said something Hunter couldn't hear. To Dwayne he added, "Line three."

Dwayne toggled a switch next to the remaining overhead screen. The screen flickered into life and Erika Slate's delicate features came into view. "Right here, Lieutenant," she said with cool professionalism. "How's the battle going?"

"I'm 'O' for two so far," Hunter reported glumly. "My suit's compromised and I've lost my right machine gun battery. And speaking of batteries, acid didn't work on it, either." Then he explained Jo's idea about using cold.

Slate pushed her glasses to a firmer seat on the bridge of her nose. "I think I could probably rig something up," she said. "It might not be necessary, however. Quark's latest weapon may be just the edge you need."

"Oh, goody," muttered Hunter. "Who was in charge of this weapon's testing? You?"

Slate shook her head. "General Thorton supervised these tests himself. He should be there any minute, now."

Hunter sighed and switched to his outer mike. "Thorton's coming with a new toy," Big Guy said.

Rusty nodded and fired another shot at the blob. The green blast made a hole in the blob which soon closed.

After a few more minutes of futile, lack-of-anything-else-to-do-as-they-retreated machine gun and nucleo-proton blasting, they heard the rumble of a large, tracked vehicle. 

The tank that appeared was standard issue, but the cannon muzzle that protruded in front of it was not. Thorton was standing in the turret, walkie-talkie in one hand, binoculars in the other. "You boys retreat out of the way," Thorton ordered the robots. "And we'll see what Donovan's new toy can do." The general grinned like a kid with a bag full of cherry bombs.

Rusty darted over the tank. Hunter moved Big Guy to follow when suddenly he was yanked around like a puppet on a string. "You again?" he growled at the gunk that had grabbed his remaining gun battery. Another strand went around Big Guy's back, almost pulling him off his feet.

Behind him, Hunter could hear Thorton reeling off coordinates to the gunner. "Son, see if you can get his arm free," Thorton said (obviously to Rusty). "Johnson, hold your fire until my…"

****

***** _Blackness_ *****

Hunter woke up in the dark (in more ways than one) with a raging headache and ringing ears. When his eyes focused, he quickly recognized his surroundings. He'd spent more time in Big Guy's cockpit than any one other place. 

"I thought the idea behind joining the army was to not spend all day in an office," he muttered. Then he sighed. "C'mon, Dwayne, you've got the consciousness part. How 'bout working on the coherent part?"

He shook his head and decided that was a bad idea. He leaned back and studied the snowy picture on his view screens as he tried to remember what had been going on. He could feel blood trickling from his nose and instinctively reached up to wipe it away, only to bang his wrist against his face plate.

Hunter swore to himself and pushed his face plate up so he could dab at his nose. He tried to move his seat back to give himself some room to work on his communications panel, only to find himself firmly mired in some sticky substance…

"Oh, yeah, you," he grumbled to the gel that had oozed into the cockpit. "Now I remember." Trying to ignore the gunk on the floor, he tweaked what controls he could reach and managed to restore external audio.

"Big Guy, answer me?" Rusty's plaintive voice seemed faint or far away.

"… Don't tell me my men can't follow orders!" Thorton's enraged bellow was farther away, but just as clear. "The bloody thing fired by itself! Even with the so-called safety locks still on!" 

Then the power from the external pickups faded. After a few tries, Hunter gave up on trying to listen to the outside and concentrated on his radio. 

"Gotta tell them I'm still alive before Thorton has to use something really powerful on this thing," he told himself. "Then it'll be too late... not to mention inaccurate." 

The sound of his words startled him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Coherent... work on co-her-ent."

After a few deep breaths to steady himself, he went to work. He worked until he managed to produce some static, pausing only now and then to wipe sweat or blood from his face. He rested a few minutes, then some fine tuning brought success. 

"Big Bird to Hunter, do you read?" Jo's voice, almost unrecognizable with worry.

"Hunter, here," he managed. "What's my status?"

Sighs of relief from the radio.

"You got nailed by friendly fire, I'm afraid," Jo's voice, still tight and unnatural.

"Yeah, I gathered that much… where am I? I've got no visual."

"The blast threw you smack in the middle of that thing, Lieutenant," Mack rasped. "Now it's dragging you down the road towards a shopping mall."

"Lovely," sighed Hunter. "Is Slate there?"

"Slate and Garth are trying an experiment," Jo said, her voice beginning to sound more normal.

"Good, let me know how it comes out," Hunter said. He leaned back in his seat to consider his next move, and fell asleep instead.

To Be Continued


	2. Hero Sandwich

Jam, Part 2

By Jill Weber

Characters owned by Sony Entertainment and Darkhorse Comics. They are used without permission and without intent to make a profit.

BZZZ… rppt… BRAPT… zhing …WAH WAH WAH!

Hunter jerked upright. "STOP! Enough! 'm 'wake already," he grumped into the comm mike. He slumped back into his seat when memory kicked in. He sighed and wished for a handful of aspirin and something to wash it down with.

"Dwayne?" Jo's voice was uncertain.

"If you dialed a wrong number, I am going to glory stomp you," grumbled Hunter.

There was a long pause on the other side and Hunter could imagine his crew exchanging worried looks. 

"Dwayne, how's the oxygen in there?"

"It's a _joke_, okay?" he sighed. 

"Since when did the lieutenant have a sense of humor?" Mack grumbled.

"Maybe we _do_ have a wrong number," Jo responded.

Hunter managed a faint smile. Not that his crew could see him. The video pickups were still out. "I do too have a sense of humor, I put up with you, don't I?"

Big Guy gave a lurch, which set didn't do Hunter's headache any good at all. After a few moments to get oriented, he decided that Big Guy was being dragged on his right side.

"So, what's my status?"

There was hemming and hawing on the other end of the mike, which Hunter interpreted as being bad news. "I take it Slate and Garth's experiment didn't pan out," he said. Then he added. "_Duh_."

"So far, Slate's stumped," Jo confessed. "She and Thorton have tried everything short of a nuclear missile."

"They've tried cold, heat, acid…" Mack recited.

"Every form of radiation on the spectrum," Jo said. 

Hunter cleared his throat. "What about water?" he asked dryly. As he spoke he methodically went through his reboot sequences to see if he could power up any of his instruments. Something dripped onto his arm and he scowled at it. Then he looked up at where Big Guy's right arm connected and scowled at the line of gunk that was creeping in through the breach.

"They tried high pressure fire hoses," Mack said. "Not to mention steam and ice… oh, that would come under head and cold, wouldn't it?"

"They also tried smothering it in C02," Jo said. "Apparently it doesn't need oxygen." She paused. "Speaking of C02, how are the levels in your cockpit?"

Hunter tapped the gauges that measured this sort of thing and shook his head. This, he decided, was a stupid reaction. The crew couldn't see his head gesture and it started his headache up again. 

"I can't tell," he said. "The gauges aren't functioning." He took a tentative breath. "The air's pretty smoky, though," he added. "Smells like fried insulation."

"Wonderful, any more happy news?" Mack inquired.

"The blob is leaking in," Hunter said obligingly.

Mack's reply was not printable.

"Have you tried sonics?" Hunter asked.

"Yep," Mack said: "Sonics, ultrasonics, subsonics…"

"Okaaaay, so what _haven't _you tried?"

Jo sighed. "We're out of ideas, Lieutenant," she said.

"That's why we decided to disrupt your beauty sleep," Mack added. "We were hoping that you'd have some really clever idea."

"I suppose asking nicely is out of the question," Hunter sighed.

"It doesn't seem to have a central nervous system, Lieutenant," Slate's calm voice broke in. "Not to mention that it seems to lack any auditory inputs."

Hunter was surprised at how much better he felt just hearing her. "So, there's no chance of opening up a meaningful dialog?" Hunter remembered the time when Slate actually had been able to talk the "monster" into releasing him. Of course, the "monster" had actually been a bunch of Slate's robo-gel floor cleaners, and they hadn't really been _bad_. They'd just been… jealous.

"I'm afraid not," Slate said regretfully. "How are you holding up?" she added. 

"Oh, I've been in worse jams," Hunter said mildly. He paused, and then added. "Can't think of any off hand, but there must have been something."

There was a long pause.

"I have a strange sense of humor, Doc," Hunter added. "Get used to it."

"I've noticed," Slate responded with a touch of irony. "It's just that you've given me an idea."

"Oh, good, what'd I say?"

"It's this negotiation business," Slate said. "So far, all our efforts have been directed at destroying the monster or forcing it to release Big Guy. Maybe we need to try a gentler approach."

"You just said it was too stupid to negotiate," Mack said.

"That doesn't mean it can't be coaxed," Garth jumped into the conversation here.

"How?" Jo asked.

"All living organisms have basic needs," Slate said. "I'd be willing to bet that this creature is looking for food."

"How is feeding it going to help us?" Jo asked.

"We may be able to lead it out of the city," Slate pointed out. "That will at least buy us time. With any luck, it might also drop Big Guy in favor of the snack."

"So, what do big blobs of jelly eat?" Hunter asked.

"Peanut butter?" Mack suggested.

Hunter could almost hear icy glares converging on Mack's head. Or maybe it was just some icy bits of blob dripping on his neck.

"Mack…" growled Jo.

"Hey, just trying to live down to the Lieutenant's example," Mack protested.

"It's passed over quite a bit of plant life in its travels," Slate said. "Apparently, it hasn't ingested anything. This, combined with its attraction to movement, seems to suggest that this thing is carnivorous."

Hunter felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He was going to be eaten alive? NO! He took a deep breath and yanked his emotions back under control. After a minute or two to regain control of his voice, he cleared his throat and said, ever so casually: "Oh, guys, did I mention that Big Guy is leaking and this stuff is getting all over me?"

There was a shocked pause on the other end of the line. Then Garth blurted: "Your suit's been breached?" The black man's voice grew heated, but faint. Hunter deduced that he'd turned away from the mike. "Why didn't you tell us…?" Garth demanded.

Mack responded defensively: "Well, we were…"

Jo responded angrily: "Garth, kiss my…"

"Language!" Hunter barked. 

"…_burrito_," Jo finished sulkily.

"… getting to it," Mack finished. After a long pause, that Hunter guessed involved a lot of glaring and dirty looks between the Pit Crew, Mack added: "Getting around to telling you, that is, not kissing Jo's burrito."

Obviously the crew was stressing. Time to apply some of his famous Hunter charm. "I hate to interrupt so charming an intellectual debate, but would you _half-wits _spend less time bickering and more time _working_!?" OK, so the famous Hunter charm was AWOL Obviously, his crew mates weren't the only ones who were stressing.

There was dead silence on the other end for a while. Then Slate asked tentatively: "Lieutenant? Is your oxygen supply adequate?"

Hunter sighed. "Sorry," he said. "I don't know what's gotten into me. It's not like I've never been _swallowed _by giant gelatinous mass before." This still sounded sarcastic to him, but he decided that nothing he could say now would change that.

There was a sigh from over the comm. "C'mon, guys," Garth said in a conciliatory tone. "We'd better get him out of there before he gets all _sarcastic _on us."

Obviously, he wasn't the only one who thought he sounded sarcastic, Hunter thought. 

Slate cleared her throat, apparently not sure how to handle the banter/flak that was flying around. "I'm open to suggestions as to what to try to feed it," she said. Now _her _voice faded. "Except peanut butter," she added, more or less offline.

Ah, so Slate _did _know how to handle the flak. 

"What about Jo's burrito?" Garth suggested.

"Hey, I was gonna eat that," Jo protested. "What about my coffee? That stuff sure as shootin' isn't any good for _drinking_."

"Speaking of shooting, where's the kid?" Hunter asked.

"He and Thorton are scouting your blobby friend," Mack said. 

"I've supplied them with a battery of testing equipment to see if any of our attacks have done any damage," Slate added. She sounded faintly apologetic. "I suppose we should have told you that sooner."

Hunter shrugged, and then sighed when he realized that gestures were useless when his audience couldn't see him. "Don't worry about it, Doc. So, what about feeding blobby?"

"Coffee is plant based," Slate said thoughtfully. "The meat in the burrito might be more to the creatures taste." She was silent for a few minutes, then added: "Jo, I really _don't _think you should eat that burrito."

While his crew and Slate brainstormed, Hunter worked on getting something other than the radio on line. His first priority, under the circumstances, was to make sure his life support was operating. Knowing his location would be nice, too. And he really wanted a peek at what was going on outside the 'friendly confines' of his cockpit.

"Haven't you ever heard of Green Burritos, Doc?" was Jo's muffled reply.

"Yes, but they're not supposed to be _that_ shade of green," Slate pointed out.

"Now, there's a thought," Mack said. "How about trying poison on the creature?"

"We tried every poison that is deemed environmentally safe," Garth said.

"How come you didn't tell us _that_?" Jo demanded.

"Um," Garth said. 

"Thought so," Jo muttered.

"There seems to be a lot of sidetracks for this conversation," Mack said. "Why don't we concentrate on getting the lieutenant out of there? I don't want a new C.O.; I just got this one broken in."

Dwayne's eyebrows went up at that, but he was too busy to think of a sufficiently cutting reply. Although the Big Guy's cockpit was 'friendly', it was still confining and difficult to work it, especially with the added disadvantage of having an adhesive carnivore dripping all over him. Being dragged along at sideways was not helping.

"Speaking of Jo's burrito, how about some biological warfare?" Mack threw in. "See what a good dose of botulism will do."

"Sorry," Gen. Thorton's gruff voice broke in at this junction. "We can't take the risk that the slug would mutate it into something detrimental to the general population."

"Yes, sir," Mack sighed. "Dang, now what?"

"I have mixed news for you," Thorton said.

Hunter's immediate thought was: *Dwayne = toast* 

"The good news is that Donovan's new toy apparently works as advertised," Thorton continued.

Hunter's next thought was: *Dwayne =_ burnt_ toast*

Thorton took a deep breath.

*Dwayne = _charred_ toast*

"The bad news is that the blob is heading directly towards an area that's packed with evacuees," Thorton said apologetically.

*Dwayne = _guy who sticks fork into toaster to remove bread_* Hunter thought, and then he said. "So, you're going to try Donovan's toy again?"

"I'm afraid so, Lieutenant," Thorton said. "It seems to be our best bet at stopping that thing."

"Sir," protested Slate. "I think you're more likely to destroy Big Guy than the blob."

*Yay, Slate!*

"Do you have a viable alternative?" Thorton demanded.

"Our thought was to try to bribe it with food," Slate replied.

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but I fail to see how that will _stop _this creature," Thorton said.

"Well, we were thinking more along the lines of luring it out of the city," Mack said. "And hoping that it will drop a certain inedible chunk of titanium somewhere along the line."

"Very well," Thorton said after a few minutes to think this over. He sounded relieved. "So, what were you planning to try to feed it?"

"Ground meat," Slate said.

"You mean that thing's carnivorous?" Thorton asked in dismay.

"Yes, sir," Hunter said. "That seems to be the best guess here." Moving carefully, he detached a strand from his arm and flicked it away.

"How's your suit holding up?" Thorton asked.

"It's not, the stuff is coming in through the arm sockets," Hunter said calmly.

Thorton sighed and said: "Good luck, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir," said Hunter, who then went back to planning an end run around luck, which had been flat out nasty to him all day.

"We'll get to work on that right away." Slate said. 

"Thanks, Doc," Hunter said gratefully.

Dwayne only kept half an ear on the radio while he worked on getting his systems functional. "Don't need the arm guns," he muttered to the blob. "They're gone. Might as well beef up power to the thrusters. Assuming, of course, that they aren't, well, jammed." If blobby dropped him, he wanted to be able to get Big Guy's titanium tush out of the line of fire ASAP.

He unbuckled his restraints and found he could move about the cockpit, even with the gunk all over the floor. Or actually, what would have been the side had Big Guy been upright. It wasn't easy working in the dim light and at an angle, but Hunter had spent so much time in the Big Guy's cockpit, that he managed to get several systems into stand-by mode. "I have _got _to get out more," he muttered.

He knew when Slate's plan started working when Big Guy gave a tremendous lurch. Several more lurches followed. Hunter would have been thrown, if his feet hadn't been jammed to the surface he was currently walking on. He grabbed the pilot's chair with one hand and finished a few connections with the other.

"The thing has changed directions," Thorton said, as satisfied as if he'd come up with this plan.

*So I've noticed* Hunter thought. "Good," Hunter said. "So, where am I headed now?"

"More or less back the way you headed," Thorton said.

"Good," Hunter said again. He made a final connection just as Big Guy started shuddering. "Whoa, what's that?" 

Before anybody could answer, Big Guy jerked around ninety degrees. This time, the gunk wasn't enough to keep Hunter's feet glued to the floor and he fell against the back of the pilot's chair.

"I've hit some turbulence. I guess Big Guy is now face down," Dwayne deduced out loud as he scrambled into his seat and secured his straps.

"Looks like," Garth replied. "How're you doing?"

"Back up systems online," Hunter said. "I seem to have everything but outside visual and weapons."

"You might want those weapons," Thorton said dryly.

*I know, but I have this thing about breathing* Hunter thought. "Yes, sir," Hunter said.

Suddenly the shuddering stepped up tempo "Guys? Slate? What's goin' on? I feel like I'm in an earthquake!"

"I've got a bad feeling about this!" Mack blurted.

*YOU'VE got a bad feeling?* But by now the tremors were so bad that Hunter couldn't find the breath to reply.

Big Guy's hull was groaning and twisting and what indicators weren't going red were just going dark.

"Lieutenant?" Jo called. "Hull integrity dropping!"

Hunter could even think of a reply. All he could do was brace himself against the console and grit his teeth. *Slate, this wasn't one of your better ideas!* he thought just before there was a tremendous SCREAM of tearing metal and a tremendous CRASH.

Then silence.


	3. Conclusion

Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot:

Jam, Part 3

By Jill Weber

The characters are owned by Darkhorse Entertainment and Sony Pictures and are used without permission or intent to make a profit. 

Everything went grey, but Hunter didn't actually pass out this time. After a few minutes, he raised his head and tried to jump start some brain cells. *Did I crash?* *Help, I've fallen and I can't get down?* *Wait, that's help, I've fallen and I can't get up!*

There was a hissing and sparking from overhead, like a scratched record on a bad stereo. Then voices came through.

"_SLATE!"_ Thorton's bellow sounded pained.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Garth said, leaping to Slate's defense. 

*Stupid time to feel jealous, Dwayne* *_Jealous? Is that what I am?*_ *Idiot, that's what you are.* ***Ow, shut up.***

"Worked!? We're trying to get rid of the thing, not start breeding them!" Thorton bellowed. "What the devil are we going to with _two_ of them?"

*Two _what_? Idiots?* Hunter thought as his wits began to coalesce. He forced himself upright and automatically began going through preflight. 

Fortunately, he was so familiar with the preflight sequence that he didn't _need _to have any operating brain cells to remember which switches to flick. Some of the darkened lights came back on… mostly in red, of course.

"Get him out of there, son! _NOW_!" Thorton barked.

*Huh? Me? Get me out? Who get me out?* Hunter thought fuzzily as he finished the preflight sequence. There were so many red lights on his board he wasn't certain that he could actually get airborne.

Rebooting the backups brought more green lights on. Then Big Guy leaped into the air. *But, I didn't start the engines!* Hunter was miffed until his brain cells started to come online and he realized that Rusty must have grabbed him. He flicked on the outer sensors, but only got audio. 

"Big Guy?" Rusty asked anxiously. "Can you hear me?"

"Rusty?" Hunter replied. 

He didn't get any feed back from Big Guy's vocal output and Rusty didn't sound reassured. 

"Big Guy? _PLEASE_ answer me."

"Dwayne?" Garth said in Hunter's ears.

"I'm here," Hunter replied to Garth with only half his attention. Concerned for the boy's human emotion grid, Hunter hastily rerouted power from the useless visual circuits to the vocal circuits. "Rusty?" he tried again.

Rusty heaved sigh. "Big Guy! I was worried about you!"

"Thanks, Son, I appreciate your concern."

"Are you all right?" Rusty asked.

Hunter eyed his 'red light district' and scowled. "No," Big Guy admitted. "I have some massive systems failures." 

"That's an understatement," Jo muttered. "That board looks worse…"

"Than your burrito," Mack finished for her.

Jo just snorted. "At least my burrito is _green_."

Hunter ignored the byplay as he checked his surroundings. He lifted his visor and felt a breeze from somewhere overhead. 

Hunter looked up, even though that made his head hurt even more. "I can't see, all of my weapons are offline, not just the ones that got ripped off, plus I have some hull breaches," he reported, as much to his Pit Crew as to Rusty. 

He couldn't see out, so it was unlikely that Rusty could see in, which was a relief. Hunter wasn't sure how the discovery might affect Rusty's emotion grid, and he didn't want to find out. Something dripped on his shoulder and he closed his visor to keep the thing from dripping into his eyes. *Blob in my eyes. Now that's a gross thought.*

"Can you fly?" Rusty asked.

Hunter held his breath as he tried the Big Guy's back up controls. Several lights on his board went to amber and some even went green. Hunter could feel the jets kick in. "I think so," Big Guy said. "Let's see if I can get any altitude." 

Hunter cautiously moved his collective control lever forward and was rewarded by the gentle pressure he associated with going up in an elevator.

"I'm going to let go now," Rusty warned.

"Ready, Sport." After a few minutes, it became apparent that Big Guy was not going to fall.

"Whew!" said Rusty. "Let's not do that again!"

"Good advice," Big Guy said ruefully. "I'll try to follow it. What's the damage look like?"

"Well, your eyes are all cracked," Rusty reported. "And your arms are gone."

"Gone…" Dwayne said blankly. He gave himself a shake in an effort to wake up a few more brain cells. "That's going to make it hard for me to fight." 

"No matter," Thorton sounded relieved as well as satisfied. "Now that we don't have to worry about frying your systems, we can just blast the first blob with Donovan's toy. Then we can take care of the other one."

Dwayne had his doubts, but didn't voice them. Then something the general said woke up a few more of his brain cells. "Second one?" he asked.

"The blob divided into two blobs," Slate said disgustedly. "So much for my bright idea."

"Hey, it got me out of there," Big Guy said. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Doc. Where are they?"

"One went back the way it came," Thorton said. "The other started back towards the area with the evacuees. We slowed it down some by putting up barricades and hosing the street down with beef broth."

"Apparently the beef broth distracts it without giving it enough energy to reproduce," Slate said, still disgruntled.

"Whatever," Thorton said. "In any case, it's not going to work for long. Either it'll eat enough to make another split or it'll give up on the flavored pavement and move on."

"Hey, Big Guy," Rusty broke in excitedly. "I got an idea!"

Big Guy said. "Shoot, Sport!"

"Why don't I patch my optic sensors to yours?"

"Why not?" Big Guy said. Dwayne cocked his head. "Guys? Any reason why not?"

"None that I can think of," Garth said. "Jo, Mack?"

"Sounds good to me," Jo said thoughtfully. "Hang on, Kid, I'll transmit a diagram of the proper connections."

*How about a drink of water and some aspirin to go with that?* Hunter wondered, but of course, he said nothing. There was nothing his crew could do for him, anyway. No point in making them feel worse than they already did.

"Got it," Rusty said. He perched on Big Guy's shoulder like an oversized parrot. "I need you to open your head," he said. Then he giggled at the strangeness of his words.

Big Guy let out an exaggerated sigh. "I knew you only loved me for my mind," he said as he raised the lid that normally brought his forehead laser into play.

Rusty howled with laughter. When he calmed down, he pulled a connector cable from his head and connected to Big Guy's AI according to Jo's schema. (Big Guy's AI had proved insufficient for operating the Big Guy by itself, but it was still better than most computers. It operated many of the automatic functions, like balance and locomotion, and it processed the sensory inputs.)

Not that Rusty knew any of this. All he knew was that when his optical output was connected to Big Guy's optical input, then Big Guy should be able to see. "There, how's that?" he asked eagerly.

Hunter made a few adjustments. "Much better," Big Guy said in satisfaction as Thorton's modified tank rumbled into view. "We should have a good view of the fireworks."

They hovered in companionable silence for a few moments, and then both spoke at once. "From higher up!"

Big Guy moved to a discreet height. As they watched, Hunter irritably plucked some gunk off his sleeve, threw it on the floor and stomped on in. He'd have loved to have stomped on the blob, but even Big Guy didn't have a big enough foot. *Not that it would do any good, anyway,* Hunter thought wistfully.

Rusty could see Thorton's grin clearly, even at this altitude. "Um, maybe we should go a little higher?" he suggested.

Big Guy gained a little more altitude. *Thorton is enjoying himself _way _too much,* Hunter thought. He set Big Guy on autopilot (another function handled by the AI) and braced himself for the worst.

Thorton rattled off the coordinates and ended with: "And this time don't fire until…"

The weapon fired with a crackle of displaced air and an intense indigo flare that made Hunter jerk his hand up to protect his eyes and smack his wrist on his visor.

"For the luvva Mike!" Big Guy complained.

"Hey! That almost burned out MY optical sensors!" Rusty complained. 

When the spots stopped dancing, Hunter checked out his situation. His screens were blank again. "Great, now both of us are flying blind," Hunter mumbled. 

"You okay, Kid?" was what Big Guy asked anxiously

"Sure, no pain receptors, remember?" Rusty said happily. "Just give me a few milliseconds." Rusty's diagnostic and repair function was reestablishing the picture even as the boy robot spoke.

Thorton's tank was beating a retreat.

"Looks like he just made it mad!" Rusty said.

"Looks like we should help," Big Guy replied, dropping down with the controlled speed of a freight elevator.

Rusty fired a stream of green nucleo-protons at the blob, hurting Hunter's eyes again. The recoil knocked the boy robot off Big Guy's shoulder and jerked out the connection.

Calculating his height, Hunter pulled at the collective to bring his descent to a halt… only to be beaten to the punch by the ground. The abrupt landing jarred Hunter's already aching head and made him bite his lip again. "For the luvva Mike," Big Guy sighed. "I'm having a bad day!"

"Big Guy," called Rusty in distress. "Take off! You're right next to the blob and it's moving your way!"

Big Guy launched for the sky. "Blobby, you are not my type!" Hunter grumbled. "Where are you, Son?"

"I'm stuck in the wall," Rusty said irately. Rusty directed him to a rendezvous point. The boy robot's instructions were clear and wonderfully precise, but Hunter was sweating bullets by the time he managed to maneuver the Big Guy to the spot where Rusty was stuck.

Without hands, Big Guy couldn't grab his partner, but Rusty could grab Big Guy's shoulder. Then, a few gentle nudges from the cyclic control, Hunter pulled Rusty out of the wall.

"Thanks!" Rusty said.

"Sweet!" Garth said in appreciation of Hunter's piloting skills. The other two members of the Pit Crew applauded.

"Good job, boys," Thorton said. Then he continued in an irritated tone. "I don't understand what happened! Scanners indicated that we did damage with the last shot!" 

Thorton was hopping mad and Hunter couldn't blame him. "On top of that, Donovan's cheap toy fires as soon as the coordinates are loaded!"

Slate grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like: "I told him so."

Hunter resisted the urge to shake his head. Instead he put Big Guy back on autopilot, rested his elbows on his console and leaned his head against his fists. He really wanted to take his helmet off, but he really didn't want to get covered with carnivorous goo, either.

*Thorton's a good general, but he really needs to take Donovan's claim with a pinch of salt. No, a LARGE block of…* "Salt?" he blurted.

"Come again?" Jo said.

"For the love of Mary," Slate said in disgust. "Why didn't I think of _that_."

Garth let out a whistle. "I don't think we tried salt on that thing."

"Maybe it'll dry it up like a giant snail," Mack said. "I told you we needed to try peanut butter. That has plenty of salt in it."

Everybody pointedly ignored that remark. Jo even went so far as to say she was pointedly ignoring his remark.

"Salt is worth a try," Slate said, interrupting Jo and Mack's argument. "I just can't understand why I didn't think of it sooner."

"Don't feel too bad, Dr. Slate," Rusty said consolingly. "Big Guy's been fighting monsters since forever, right, Big Guy?"

"Feels like it," Big Guy said. Privately, Hunter added. "Besides, Slate, this idea might not work, either."

"There!" Rusty said with satisfaction. "How's that?"

Lifting his head, Hunter saw that his view screen was online again. "Good work, Son," Big Guy said.

"You sound awful," Rusty said.

"Getting low on power, here, Sport," Big Guy said. 

"You up to salting down the enemy?" Thorton asked.

"He doesn't have any hands!" Rusty reported. "His arms got ripped off when the blob split in two and went different directions."

"In that case, this is a Rusty solo job," Thorton decided. "Rusty, you get Big Guy back to the Darkhorse. Dr. Slate, you rig up some sort of spray gun for the boy while I rustle up some salt."

"Yes, sir!" Rusty said happily, bouncing up and down on Big Guy's shoulder.

"I'm on it," Slate said with quiet determination.

"Thanks," Dwayne said.

***

With Rusty's Guidance, Hunter flew back to the USS Darkhorse with no difficulty. They found Dr. Slate and Garth waiting for them with a large tank for Rusty.

"We thought we could do more good from here than from my office," Slate explained. She gestured to the tank. "This was originally intended for sand blasting. It should work with salt, too."

"Good thinking," Big Guy said. He stomped across the repair bay and dropped into his oversized chair with an 'oomph' that caused Rusty to laugh.

"What?" Big Guy boomed.

"You sounded like Dr. Donovan at the end of a long meeting with the investors," Rusty explained. He disengaged his optical sensors from Big Guy's, leaving Hunter in the dark again.

"Oh," Big Guy. *Wonderful, I'm acting like Donovan.* Hunter thought.

Slate and Garth had just finished adjusting the salt blaster when Jo and Mack arrived in the Osprey V.T.O.L known as 'Big Bird.'

"Where's Lt. Dwayne?" Rusty asked.

"He's sick," Mack drawled. "We hadda take him to the doctor's. Thorton's orders."

*Swell* Hunter thought. *Just what I needed. Another hospital stay.* And of course he'd have to go. Couldn't risk Rusty finding out that he hadn't been in the hospital.

"You'd better get going, Kid," Garth said. "Gen. Thorton is waiting to load your salt shaker."

"Okeey, dokeey!" Rusty said happily. "I'm on my way. Tell Lt. Dwayne that I hope he's feeling better soon!" And, with a jaunty salute that neither Big Guy nor Dwayne could see, the boy robot shot out the repair pit as only a hyperactive boy robot on a mission could.

As soon as the Pit Crew had the pit sealed up, Hunter yanked on the lever that operated the Big Guy's rear hatch. Nothing happened. Although he knew he shouldn't even be surprised, Hunter pounded on his armrest and swore vehemently.

"For the luvva Mike," said Big Guy. (Yeah, the AI handles, um, translating, too.)

"Language, Lieutenant," chided Jo laughingly. "There's a lady onboard."

Hunter felt his cheeks heating up, even though nobody could see him. "Sorry, Doc," he said.

"Under the circumstances, I can't blame you," Slate said. "Besides, I'm always interested in expanding my vocabulary." 

"Won't be useful to you in a scientific report," Mack said as the three mechanics and the roboticist studied the much abused Big Guy.

"Might be useful in talking to Donovan," Jo pointed out.

"Or at least about Donovan," Slate agreed.

"So now that Rusty's out of the way, now what?" Garth asked, bringing them back to business.

"So now you rig me up some eyes so I can at least watch the kid save the day," Hunter said. "Doc, would you please figure out some way to get me out of here?"

"I'm working on it," Slate said.

"Dwayne?" Garth asked. "Shouldn't we get to work on prying you out?"

Hunter made an exasperated sound. "I asked Dr. Slate politely, because _she _is a civilian," he growled.

The Pit Crew was silent for several minutes. "You were right, Garth," Jo said. "He's getting all sarcastic."

"You really like pushups that much?" Hunter growled.

"We're on it, Lieutenant," Mack responded. 

"Getting you some eyes," Jo added hastily. "I'll do those pushups later."

It didn't take them long to rig up a camera for Big Guy. The effect was rather strange, like some futuristic cyclops.

"Guess he's 'Big Eye,' now," Mack cracked. 

There was no response from inside.

"Dwayne?" Garth asked worriedly.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, still here," Dwayne said tiredly. "See if you can rig up an arm, too. I may need it if the salt thing doesn't work."

"You plan on going back out there?" Mack asked incredulously.

"If I need to," Hunter said.

"Let's hope you don't," Garth said. "Here's the kid."

They adjusted their screens so Hunter could see. Rusty was approaching the first blob, the one nearest the evacuees. 

"That tank's bigger than he is," Mack commented.

"The better to salt you with," Slate answered. Since Mack and Jo hadn't heard the explanation before, she added: "It's actually a modified sand blaster."

"Cool, a salt blaster," Jo said. "Make me a smaller version of it for dinner!"

"Think of the food fights," Mack agreed enthusiastically.

"Fill it with pepper and you could use it in a real fight," Garth commented thoughtfully.

"Big Guy and Rusty salt and pepper shakers!" Jo said. "We could make a mint!"

"Don't you ever think of anything but food?" Hunter asked. "Now hush up," he added before Jo could protest that wasn't the kind of mint she had in mind. 

Rusty sprayed salt at the gel with considerable glee, not to mention sound effects. "NOW FEEL THE WRATH OF MY SUPER-DUPER BLOBBO GEL ATOMIZER!" Rusty howled. "BReeEEEP! CH-ZAP! SHZAM!"

"Beats just shaking salt on it," Garth commented.

"I blame this on you, Lieutenant," Slate joked.

"Me?" Hunter protested. "What did I do?"

"Does the phrase 'candygram' mean anything to you?" Slate asked dryly. "More to the point, does it mean the same thing to you as it does the rest of the world?"

"How about your terrorist lowlife super mag popper?" Jo added.

"Two words, 'glory stomp,'" Mack contributed.

*I have GOT to get out of this shell more,* Hunter thought. "Okay, you come up with better names, I'll use 'em."

There were no takers.

"Hey, it's working!" crowed Rusty. "It's running away!" After a few moments of herding, Rusty's delight began to diminish. "Well, it's crawling away." fifteen minutes later. "It doesn't seem to be dying or anything," he complained. "It just keeps crawling away."

"It may take a while for the salt to do its work," Slate said.

"Oh," Rusty said in disappointed tones. He much preferred fast and flashy results.

"Well, at least that give us a way to control the blobby thing," Garth said. "Blobby things," he amended as he remembered the second blob.

"Fine, since I can't get out of here, I might as well join the party," Hunter said. "Rig me up a couple of salt blasters, guys, I'm steppin' out."

"Do you think that's wise?" Slate asked.

"No," Hunter said shortly. "Now get to work."

"So much for asking the doctor nicely," Slate sighed.

"That *is* nicely, for a lieutenant," Jo informed her.

***

There was nothing for Dwayne to do. He'd fixed or rerouted or bypassed as many of Big Guy's systems as he could. On one screen could see the Pit Crew trying to rig up a salt blaster for him and Dr. Slate hunched over a diagnostics machine as she analyzed some scraps of blob.

On another screen, he could see Rusty chasing the blob with his salt blaster. With half an ear, he listened to Gen. Thorton ordering up some road salting machines from the mountains. 

*Figures,* Hunter thought in disgust. *I finally get a chance to watch T.V., and there's nothing on.* 

He willed himself to relax and ignore his headache and his rumbling stomach. He was actually dozing off when Jo shrieked.

Dwayne sat up with a jerk. "What? Jo?" he blurted through Big Guy's voice.

He could see Jo staggering back, cursing and slapping at her arm. Garth was bolting towards her and Mack was rushing to the food area. 

Slate was disentangling herself from her folding chair, which had somehow collapsed and ensnared her lab coat.

Dwayne had Big Guy on his feet, but Garth waved him back. Helpless, Dwayne could only bite his abused lip with worry for his friend.

"GET IT OFF!" Jo howled. She plowed into a cart laden with tools and food. Arms flailing in a vain attempt to regain her balance, Jo landed with a crash of falling metal and another spate of foul language.

"JO!" Garth cried as he flung himself by her side.

"Don't yell, I'm not deaf," Jo snapped peevishly.

Mack came up with a salt shaker. "Here," he said. "See if this helps."

Garth helped Jo sit. She was now covered with grease and parts of everybody's lunch. She held out her arm, irritably brushing off Mack's peanut butter and raisin sandwich. 

"Ewww," Jo said. "I don't know which is worse, the blob or your lunch, Mack." She looked over at the spilled food. "Guess I won't eat that burrito after all."

"Very funny," Mack grumbled as poured salt on the patch of blob that had caused the commotion. "You owe me lunch," he said.

"What happened?" Slate asked as she arrived, somewhat disheveled from her battle with the collapsing chair.

"I was stripping what wires remained in Big Guy's arm when something stung me," Jo said. "At first, I thought I'd hit a live wire, then I saw…" She peeled off the blob patch and shook it. "This thing."

She paused for a few moments. "I guess it startled me."

"Startled you?" Mack griped. "You haven't howled like that since the time the lieutenant painted your Harley Davidson Pepto-Bismol pink."

"Yeah, well… WHAT?!" she shrieked again. "_Dwayne _did that?" She glared at Big Guy. "And you let me blame it on Mack 'n' Garth?!"

*Ah, back to the 'Dwayne = Toast' equation,* Hunter thought with some amusement. "Are you injured?" he asked, changing the subject. "Is that thing dead?"

Jo looked at the limp bit of gel in her hand. "Doc?"

Retrieving a pair of pliers from the tools scattered on the floor, Slate grasped the gel, pushed her glasses firmly on her nose and studied the gel. "Looks dead to me," she said calmly. "I'll double check."

Meanwhile, Garth was inspecting Jo's arm. 

"I'm okay," she protested. "It's just bruised where I banged it against the tool chest." She nodded towards the cart that she had tripped over. She did not, however, pull free from Garth's hold.

"It's starting to blister," Garth contradicted. "YOU are going to sick bay. NOW."

Slate placed the blob under a microscope and examined it. She ran a few more tests before declaring: "It's really most sincerely dead." She pulled off her glasses and wiped her forehead with her sleeve. "Good thing the salt killed it," she added.

"Yeah," Jo said in subdued and un-Jo-like tones as Garth and Mack helped her to her feet. "Thanks, Mack." Looking towards Big Guy she added. "Thanks, Dwayne. I appreciate your cleverness." Then she frowned. "If not your taste in color."

Hunter didn't answer immediately. He was busy kicking himself for not seeing the answer sooner. He leaned over and pulled his legs up. As he suspected, there was a splat of dead blob under his feet. "Not so clever," he murmured. "And it wasn't the salt."

"What?" Mack demanded. 

"Don't tell me it was the peanut butter," Jo said darkly. "I'm not prepared to hear Mack crow for the next three day."

Hunter laughed. "Don't worry, it wasn't the peanut butter, either. It all adds up. Why Donovan's toy didn't work on the blob when the first shot did. How Jo killed the blob before Mack salted it and how we're going to end this. Now." Hunter sounded tired to his own ears. But he was feeling satisfied, too.

"Doc, you walk Jo to the infirmary. Guys, I want you to make sure there are no more baby blobs in the Pit. I'm going out."

"But you don't have your salt blaster!" Mack protested. 

"Won't need it," Hunter said. He switched to Big Guy's communication line. "Son, I have a plan. See if you can herd the blobs to the alley where we first fought it."

"OK," Rusty said. "Then what are we going to do?"

"We're going to introduce them to the gravity of the situation," Big Guy said. 

The Pit Crew and Slate exchanged puzzled looks at the cryptic remark. Dwayne just grinned.

***

It was relatively easy to get the first blob into the alley. It was already headed there. All Thorton had to do was dump a large pile of salt in the thing's path to keep it from going past the alley.

Rusty had a trickier time herding. He'd just gotten his blob moving in the right direction when his salt blaster ran out of ammo. "Aw, shucky-darn, now what do I do?" he asked.

"See if you can get it to follow you," Big Guy advised.

Rusty, remembering how the blob had gone after Gen. Thorton's tank, landed and blasted a stream of nucleo-protons at it. When he picked himself up, he noticed happily that the blob was moving after him. He turned and ran. Staying on the ground, he moved fast enough to elude capture, but so fast as not to lose it.

Rusty arrived in the alley a few minutes after Big Guy, and a few minutes ahead of his blob. He leaped into the air to avoid the blob that Thorton had driven there.

"What gives?" Thorton demanded. 

"Sir, analysis indicated that there was a dead area in the original blob. That wasn't caused by Donovan's toy, it was caused by me hitting it… very hard. Jo just killed a smaller version by smacking it against a metal cart."

Big Guy scanned the area. It had been evacuated a long time ago. "Son, see that tilted building?"

"Oh, the one I smashed into earlier?" Rusty asked.

"That's the one," Big Guy said. "Shoot out its foundation." He moved to the opposite side of the building.

Rusty grinned and fired. Big Guy put his back to the building and pushed. The elderly building keeled over, almost gracefully, and SMASHED into the ground, shaking up seismographs all over the state. 

The two robots studied the site through the swirling dust. There was no sign of either blob.

"Looks like we got both of them," Big Guy said.

"You think they're dead?" Rusty asked.

"I hope so," Big Guy replied. "It's past my shut down time." 

Rusty looked up in surprise, since it was only late afternoon. Then he remembered that Big Guy needed more down time than he did.

"Nice work, boys," Thorton laughed. "Got to remember that sometimes the simple solution is the best one."

"Yes, sir," Hunter said, too tired to come up with a pithy comeback.

"Son, I want you to maintain surveillance on the site to make sure that thing doesn't sneak away. Big Guy, you're to report back to the Darkhorse for repairs."

"Yes, sir!" Rusty said with enthusiasm.

"Yes, sir," Hunter said tiredly.

***

As he headed back for the aircraft carrier, Hunter radioed the Pit. "How's Jo?" he asked.

"She's fine," Jo answered. "The blisters aren't anything to worry about. The fall did more damage than the blob did. How are _you _doing?"

"I'll be fine once I get my aching bones out of here," Hunter replied. "Any progress?"

"Yes," Slate reported. "I believe I have the answer."

"Go on, Doc, I'm all ears," Hunter said as he maneuvered Big Guy to a landing.

"It's an alkaline substance with a complex molecule. One end of the molecule is what's called 'hydrophilic' while the other end is 'hydrophobic.'

"You mean it has rabies?" Mack demanded.

"No, no, I mean, well, the term literally means that the end is water fearing. In chemistry, that means that the end will attach itself to any molecule that isn't water."

"So the _hydrophilic _end…?" Garth prompted.

"Being 'water-loving,' the hydrophilic end will attach itself to water. When the water moves, it carries the attached alkaline with it."

"And the alkaline, being attached to blob molecules, carries the blob with it?" Jo asked. "In other words, the blob will dissolve in water."

"Essentially, yes," Slate asserted.

"So, what is this wonder stuff?" Mack asked. "Where do we get it?"

Dwayne had to laugh. "Mack, it's called 'soap.'"

There was only one thing to say to that and Mack said it. "For the luvva Mike."

The End.


	4. Epilogue

Jam, Epilogue

By Jill Weber

As usual, the characters are not mine, they belong to Sony and Darkhorse.

Slate's idea of cleaning the gel off Big Guy was a gem. However, it was a time consuming process. Hunter was feeling queasy by the time the Pit Crew managed to pry the hatch open.

"There!" Mack said with considerable satisfaction when the hatch finally came open.

"Thank you," Hunter said tiredly, as he hauled his aching body out of Big Guy's cockpit. He stretched, luxuriating in being able to reach out and _not_ touch anything. He headed for the ladder to the floor, just a trifle unsteady.

"You OK, Lieutenant?" Mack asked.

"Yeah, sure," Hunter said, not very convincingly. He reached the bottom of the ladder with no trouble. However, as soon as he set foot on the deck, he stepped on a puddle of soapy water and went flat on his back with a 'oomph' of lost breath.

Jo grabbed Slate by the arm. "C'mon," she said, hustling the surprised scientist out of the Pit and into a small room to one side.

It was just as well that Hunter was knocked speechless, considering what he really, really wanted to say at this point. When he regained his breath, he remembered that Slate was present. Alarmed and embarrassed, he looked around.

"Where's Slate?" he asked.

"She went to help Jo change her bandage," Garth said blandly.

"Yeah, it got all greasy," Mack said.

Hunter sighed with relief. 

"C'mon, Lieutenant, let's get you to the people doctor," Mack said. 

"If you're a good boy, we'll take you out to dinner," Garth said.

"Anything but peanut butter," Dwayne muttered.

"Actually, we were thinking of pancakes," Mack said. "With lot of jam on them."

Jo shut the door silently and Mack and Garth hustled Dwayne off to sick bay. 

Looking around, Slate realized that they were in the lavatory. She looked back at Jo and pushed her glasses back up her nose.

"Give him a break," Jo said. "It's embarrassing enough as it is." She pulled at the latex glove that protected her bandage from getting dirty. "Here, you'd better help me with this thing. Can't make liars out of the guys, right?"

Slate made a wry face. "As Rusty would say… 'What_ever_'."


End file.
